


Ripe

by Eralk Fang (EralkFang)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, But it's just a fantasy scenario, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mpreg, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6990733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EralkFang/pseuds/Eralk%20Fang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Ren says, knitting his brows together in a way that makes him look a little slow on the uptake. “My freedom in exchange for?”</p>
<p>Hux smirks nastily. “Impregnation,” he says, making sure his voice snags on every rough consonant in the word. The effect on Ren is immediate. It’s as if his whole body comes to attention. Something subterranean glistens in Ren’s dark eyes. </p>
<p>“With a machine?” he asks, voice too hopeful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [the following prompt at tfa_kink](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/4613.html?thread=10567685#cmt10567685):
>
>> Even though Kylo can't get pregnant, he and Hux enjoy roleplaying that Kylo is a captured Resistance agent and that Hux will only let him go after he impregnates him in order to show the people on Kylo's side just how eager he is to spread his legs for a First Order general.
>> 
>> Bonuses:  
>  +Lots of dirty talk about how fertile Kylo is and how pregnancy will change his body.  
>  ++Hux says something along the lines of "what will they think when they see that you've come home a knocked-up whore?"  
>  +++Kylo begs for Hux's seed.
> 
> The third in my accidental trilogy of unrelated fics wherein Hux tries unsuccessfully to put a baby in Kylo, following "[Full](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5956036)" and "[Heir to the Empire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6224854)". And they get longer every time I write one. THIS IS MY LEGACY.

“I’m prepared to make you an offer.”

At this, Ren finally looks up at Hux, through the loose curls of his mussed hair that have fallen over his eyes. From his vantage point seated behind his desk, Hux marvels at just how odd Ren looks in civilian clothing—in this case, a pair of loose trousers, a thin shirt, and a shift jacket, all hastily acquired. He can’t tell if he’s simply used to Ren in his elaborate robes or if Ren’s overlarge features just seem out of place in any context other than his own. 

There’s a pair of manacles on his wrists, but they’re for show. They’re not even regulation binders. And even if they were, they would pose no threat to Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of the same name. He could open them with a thought, if not with the sheer strength of his impressive arms.

But for the purposes of this scenario, Ren is not Ren. He is, instead, a hapless agent of the Resistance, lucky enough to have survived the annihilation of his squadron, unlucky enough to have been caught, and handsome enough to have caught the eye of the general himself. 

Like many powerful men, Ren believes that he must set aside his power in order to indulge himself more fully. It is not a belief that Hux shares, but it is one that he is more than willing to enable.

“An offer of what?” Ren asks, voice low and sullen. 

“Your freedom, of course,” Hux says, snapping his consonants, hissing his vowels. None of their scenarios require much acting—this is, in fact, the only one that requires any set dressing—but Ren asked specifically for _the general_ , so he makes sure Ren gets _the general_ in full. 

It’s flattering, to be asked to just be yourself in someone else’s fantasy.

Ren lifts his chin, shaking his hair out of his face. Even while playing a prisoner, he can’t banish the inherent hauteur of his features. “There’s always a catch. What’s the catch?”

“Perhaps offer is not the best word,” Hux accedes, leaning forward to place his elbows on his desk and steeple his fingers together. “What I am offering might best be characterized as an… _exchange_.”

“So,” Ren says, knitting his brows together in a way that makes him look a little slow on the uptake. “My freedom in exchange for?”

Hux smirks nastily. “Impregnation,” he says, making sure his voice snags on every rough consonant in the word. The effect on Ren is immediate. It’s as if his whole body comes to attention. Something subterranean glistens in Ren’s dark eyes. 

“With a machine?” he asks, voice too hopeful.

“Oh, no,” Hux says. He feels like he should say Ren’s name, but the Resistance agent doesn’t have a name. They’ve never given him one. “I realize you must be impressed by how efficiently we’ve incorporated the latest technology into our grand operation, but the First Order believes that there are still some things that are best done the old-fashioned way.” He smirks again. “I would do it personally.” 

Hux stands and crosses the floor to land at Ren’s feet, stepping into the circle of his personal space. Ren is slouching, but Hux still has to tip his chin up to look him in the eye. Funny—once, he had thought that emasculating.

When he’d been daft enough to think that Ren’s size had anything to do with his sexual preferences. 

Ren is watching him with glittering eyes. He’s starting to vibrate with excitement, and Hux finds his body answering in anticipation of having Ren so viscerally at his mercy. “How do you know it’ll take?” Ren asks, voice low enough to send a shiver through Hux. 

“I have your blood work—your biorhythms indicate that you’re currently at peak fertility, although the window will close soon. And…” Hux trails a proprietary hand down the buttons of Ren’s shirt before pressing the palm of his hand between Ren’s legs. Ren’s half-hard cock pulses hotly under his hand, even through the fabric of his trousers. Hux looks calmly up at Ren. “I know a desperate _whore_ when I see one.”

Hux curls his fingers around Ren’s swelling erection and strokes him gently through his trousers until Ren makes a quiet, whining noise. The contrast between that noise’s delicacy and the sizable man he’s wrung it from makes Hux’s skin flush and his cock stiffen. “So you _do_ consent?” Hux asks calmly.

“Mmm, what?” Ren asks, blinking down at Hux.

Hux rolls his eyes—really, getting lost in the moment before they’ve even gotten to the moment this entire scenario is centered around? He squeezes, a little harder than he really ought, and Ren groans. “To the terms of our agreement?” Hux prompts.

“Yes,” Ren says, sounding a little dazed. He lurches forward, but Hux presses a hand to his chest. “Say it,” Hux orders. “I don’t want you to have any plausible deniability when I send you back.” 

Ren nods, his face lighting up. Hux finds Ren’s smiles deeply discomforting–they never _look_ quite right—but the eager cast to his features in this moment suits him much better. Hux has come on that expression more than once. 

“G-general Hux,” Ren says, formally, stumbling over his words not in mock embarrassment but in true excitement. Hux only lets him play out this scenario on special occasions, because making it rare heightens its effect on Ren. It suits him, suits him a great deal, to see Ren so desperate for his own debasement. Hux lets out a shuddering breath as his cock swells to full attention. “I want you to—fuck me pregnant. _Please_.” 

“Well,” Hux says, smirking, “since you asked so _nicely_ …”

He leaves behind Ren’s now complete and always impressive erection to trail his hand up to his chest. He unbuttons Ren’s shirt, revealing the familiar muscled expanse of Ren’s chest. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with here,” Hux says briskly. 

The skin of Ren’s chest is warm under his hands. Hux cups Ren’s pectorals, framing his hardening nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. “ _Ripe_ , aren’t we?” Hux asks casually, tugging on one of those tempting nubs. Ren moans a little, arching his back to press into the contact. 

But Hux abandons Ren’s nipples to ghost his hands back down Ren’s torso. When his hands reach Ren’s belt, he tugs it open, and then works open his fly.

As soon as he parts the zippered teeth, Ren’s thick cock springs free, bobbing slightly. “No underwear?” Hux says, in mock shock. “You really _are_ up for it, aren’t you?” He tugs the waist of Ren’s trousers down, just below the curve of his ass. Hux licks his lips involuntarily. Odd—Ren naked has a different, although no less satisfying, effect on him than Ren exposed does. There’s just something filthy about it that makes Hux’s cock throb.

Ren rolls his hips, trying to encourage Hux to touch his cock, but Hux elegantly steps away from him, slightly to the side. “Assume the position. I’m sure you know which one.”

Ren obeys, shuffling awkwardly towards the desk, with his legs so restricted. Hux is tempted to laugh, but the temptation vanishes when Ren spreads his legs wide and bends over, casually exposing his asshole. With his hands manacled, Ren balances his weight on his elbows instead.

For a moment, Hux just takes in the delectable view of Ren bent over his desk, but he soon sidles up behind Ren. He’s close enough to kick his heels apart farther, but far enough that there’s enough space between them that he can press the fingers of his right hand hand to the knob of Ren’s tailbone.

Ren shivers at the touch. 

Hux trails his fingers down Ren’s cleft and finds that Ren is, as always, already slick and stretched. Despite its commonness in their play, Hux imagines Ren fingering himself alone in his refresher with his thick fingers, stretching himself out for Hux to fuck him. “Wet already?” Hux asks, roughly plunging in a finger into Ren. Ren tenses and cries out. From this angle, Hux can’t see Ren’s face, but he can hear the wolfish grin twisting his face on the exhale. “Your body _wants_ this. It wants this very badly.”

“Yes,” Ren breathes, clenching around Hux’s finger. 

Hux suppresses a noise of his own. Having Ren’s desperation to be fucked more or less literally in the palm of his head always affects him like this—there’s nothing more intoxicating to him than power willfully submitting. In this regard, and in precious few others, they are well-matched.

Hux gently scissors his fingers, but it’s an empty gesture—Ren’s hands are bigger than his. He pulls his fingers out slowly, trailing his fingertips against the smooth, warm internal walls of Ren’s body. With his dry hand, he undoes his fly.

Hux pulls his erection out of his underwear, tucking the waistband behind his balls. In exchange for indulging Ren’s apparent need to pretend he can get pregnant, Hux gets to keep his uniform on. It’s narcissistic, he knows, but looking down at the contrast between his crisp uniform and exposed, stiff cock makes his breath catch and his balls ache. 

Maybe he should get _Ren_ a uniform. Maybe the Resistance agent could be a spy, a double agent next time, caught snooping in the general’s office and turned over to him for punishment. Hux wonders what that punishment could be—perhaps making Ren lie down on his back on his desk and hang his head off the edge, all the better to fuck his throat. He’s briefly so overwhelmed by the idea of his cock making Ren’s Adam’s apple bob up and down that he leaks precome. 

Hux comes back to the moment at hand when Ren raises his head over his shoulder and narrows his eyes a little, completely out of character. Hux raises his eyebrows and coughs, filing that idea away for later. In any case, it wouldn’t replace this scenario, as it lacks anything that appeals to Ren’s fixation on being impregnated, despite lacking the necessary equipment. 

“My apologies,” Hux says, smiling wickedly as he hooks his thumb into Ren’s hole and tugs his rim open a little wider. Ren hisses out something vulgar that Hux doesn’t quite catch—he’s too busy pressing the underside of his cock along Ren’s cleft. His cock is soon slick, and he finds himself thankful for Ren’s heavy hand with lubricant. The friction is divine against his pulsing cock, but when Ren tries to press back, Hux grabs him by the hip with his left hand to steady him. 

“You’re certainly not worried about appearing too eager, are you?” Hux asks. Ren shakes his head.

Hux pulls back slightly, just enough to rub the head of his cock against Ren’s hole and the knuckle of his thumb, before unhooking his thumb so he can slide his right hand to Ren’s hips. Thus anchored, Hux pushes into Ren slowly. He meets little resistance, although it’s been a few weeks since Ren has taken, either in a scenario like this or just in general. When Hux bottoms out, balls brushing against Ren’s ass, he takes a deep breath and drapes himself over Ren’s back, hooking his chin over Ren’s broad shoulder. It’s a stretch, given Ren’s superior height, but he just needs to be able to press the side of his mouth to Ren’s ear. 

“You fit perfectly around my cock,” Hux murmurs into the shell of Ren’s ear. “Like you were made to take it, instead of whatever _else_ has been undoubtedly up you.” He does not begin thrusting into Ren, although he wants to. Unlike Ren, he can control himself.

Instead, he waits, sliding his left hand slowly up Ren’s muscled stomach and chest. Ren’s breathing grows more and more labored as Hux’s hand makes its slow progress. Hux tilts his head to catch Ren’s face at the corner of his eye, watching Ren squeeze his own eyes shut, bite his lower lip. Hux unconsciously bites his own, struck by the sudden urge to kiss and bite Ren’s full lips until they swell. 

But the general and the Resistance agent do not do anything as intimate as kiss, despite the general’s intentions. Instead, when Hux’s fingers brush against Ren’s nipple, he pinches the little nub without warning. Ren cries out sharply, and it’s as if the physical act of opening his mouth weakens his resolve. “Oh, _fuck_ me,” Ren grunts, and Hux can’t tell if he’s cursing or asking. “Do something, fuck me hard, _please_.” 

Hux favors Ren with one thrust, nearly pulling out entirely before plunging back into him. Ren is so _tight_ around his cock, exactly the way he likes it. “Harder,” Ren demands. “Harder, I need it harder, I can take it harder—”

Hux knows exactly how hard Ren can take it—a limit that lies somewhere even beyond Hux’s skills—but that’s not want he wants. Instead, he clicks his tongue. “No, no. I’d fuck you hard and leave you wanting if I was trying to teach you a lesson. But it’s slow and steady if it’s for _breeding_ ,” Hux purrs into his ear. “I’m going to open you up on my cock until you beg for my Imperial seed. And then I’m going to come in you so deep you won’t be able to do anything _but_ conceive.” 

Ren groans again and drops his head. He cries out when Hux yanks his head back up by his hair with his left hand, grabbing his dark curls and pulling in the proper way, by the root. Hux’s elbow digs into the surface of his desk in a way that will undoubtedly be painful in a few minutes, but Hux doesn’t care. His other hand remains at Ren’s hip, but he digs his fingernails into the thin skin bunched over the crease of Ren’s leg and his hipbone. 

Hux pumps his leaking cock into Ren in short, deep thrusts, slowly moving in and out of him. The temptation to just slam into Ren, fuck him as hard as he can, weighs on Hux as if it’s a physical thing, something dangerously warm pressing against his skin, but Hux resists it. He can resist temptation.

Except the temptation of Ren, warm and willing beneath him, grunting and whining for Hux’s come, Hux’s heir. Hux thrusts into him a little more forcefully, and Ren lets out a long, low groan that reverberates through the both of them. Hux shudders. “Just _think_ of what they’ll say when you come back,” Hux says. “You won’t be able to hide this.”

“Your tits will swell up, you know that? They’re the first things to show. You might be able to play that off, even though they’ll ache so much you’ll have to tug on them when you touch yourself. Just to relieve the pressure.” Hux drops more of his weight on Ren. Ren bends his knees instinctively, and the motion pushes Hux deeper into him at a different angle. Ren cries out lowly, and Hux grunts at the sound. “ _Ah_ , but what about when you start showing? Can’t hide _that_ , can you?”

Ren pushes back onto Hux and Hux yanks on his hair again—whether as a warning or just to stake his claim, he doesn’t know and, frankly, at this point, doesn’t care. “I’d like to see that,” Hux murmurs. “You, pregnant with my child. Maybe I should keep you here until you’re showing, fuck you one last time for good measure before I cut you loose, hmm?”

Hux is sweating underneath his uniform, at their point of joining, at his hairline. He’s barely thrusting into Ren now, they’re pressed so close together. He’s just swiveling his hips slowly, dragging his throbbing cock across Ren’s prostate in small, infuriating movements. “And when they can see you, _swollen_ with the fruit of your _labor_ , they’ll ask you why. Why would you betray the cause? Why would you abandon your entire squadron? Why would you let their general touch you like this? _Fuck_ you like this?”

Hux’s hips stutter, his body trying to move faster than he wants to, and he forces himself to stop. Hux can feel his orgasm coiling like a serpent within him, a long line of overwhelming heat extending from the base of his cock into his chest. Ren is shaking and sweating under him, but Hux pays him no mind. The good thing about Ren is that no matter how hard you fuck him, he won’t come unless you touch his cock. 

Hux lets out a shaky breath, mastering himself. He breathes in deeply, and, despite being pressed so close against Ren, he catches more of the slightly sour scent of his own sweat and skin than Ren’s strange, scorched smell. He suddenly loathes the shirt and jacket underneath his chin, just for failing to smell like Ren. He abandons Ren’s hip to yank the collars of both garments down with his right hand, exposing Ren’s rounded shoulder. He presses his mouth against it, mumbling against the skin. Ren groans, head sagging in Hux’s grip. 

When he feels like he’s not going to immediately come in Ren at the slightest movement, Hux lifts his head, recovering his previous line of thought with ease. “And you’ll have to tell them that we never touched you, we never tortured you, we never did _anything_ to you. You just opened your legs as soon as you counted the stripes on my sleeve. You’re just a common _slut_ who knows his place.” 

Hux pants and shakes with effort as he tries to roll his hips slower and slower. But he can feel his control fraying more and more with every second. “ _Beg for it_ ,” Hux snarls.

Ren snarls, too, guttural and low, the words coming out of his mouth as if being pushed by force out of his throat. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” Ren curses. “Fill me up—fuck me _full_ —”

Hux thrusts into Ren sharply. “They’ll know,” he pants, “they’ll know you don’t _belong_ to them.” He spits out the word _belong_ thickly, in lieu of cursing. “They’ll know you belong to—” 

“ _You_ ,” Ren groans.

“They’ll know you belong to the First Order” is the line as written, but Hux is so startled by Ren's raw _need_ that he barely notices. The seemingly bottomless depths of Ren’s neediness shock Hux into coming, and Hux spills into Ren with an ugly choking noise. He pumps his come into Ren in three short thrusts before sagging against him, forcing Ren, still unsatisfied, still shaking from how much he wants to come, to stagger. 

“Alright,” Hux pants. He repeats the word a few times before it means anything to him. He trails his suddenly leaden hand across Ren’s hips to barely brush his knuckles against Ren’s sack and the thick, throbbing vein on the underside of his cock. “Alright, you can come.”

Ren obeys with a hoarse scream, come spurting onto the dark floor of Hux’s office. Hux bites his lip as Ren’s body contracts around his sensitive, softening cock, but the opportunity to experience Ren’s orgasm like this—pressed up so closely against him that they’re almost sharing skin, despite the layers of clothing between them—is a rare luxury. 

Ren’s shoulders relax underneath Hux’s chest, but it’s only when Ren’s knees traitorously wobble that Hux realizes this might not be a sustainable position. Hux plants his feet a little firmer and straightens up, pulling out of Ren slowly with a slick, popping noise. Hux’s come drools out of his stretched hole. 

It occurs to Hux that this is rather counterintuitive to the goal of fucking Ren pregnant. He shakes his head, tucking his soft cock back into his uniform with a weak thrill at having been so exposed. “Better?” he asks. 

Ren stays bent over the desk, panting, until Hux is half-tempted to just tug up his trousers himself. But, at the last moment, Ren straightens. Hux’s eyes catch on a smear of come, origin indeterminate, on the back of one of Ren’s thick thighs before Ren pulls up his trousers, without a care to how much he’s staining them. He turns as he buttons his pants, looking up at Hux through the sweaty curls stuck to his forehead. One of them is obscuring the two moles above his left eyebrow, Hux thinks, and he’s a little shocked that he remembers the topography of Ren’s skin so intimately.

“You can be rougher, you know,” Ren says, casually. “Next time.” He begins buttoning his shirt back up, but Hux reaches out to stop him, pressing a hand to his chest. 

“I hardly want to conceive my heir rutting like a wild beast, Ren,” Hux says. He says it to mock—he does find the extremity of Ren’s bearer envy a little ridiculous at times—but Ren’s eyes glitter with that sharp, subterranean brightness once more. His eagerness is so infectious that Hux kisses him. 

But he makes sure to bite his lower lip sharp enough to make Ren whine. Ren did, after all, _ask_.


End file.
